


Learning To Run.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: Petya 'verse - All Petya Vorkosigan Fics [21]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Alternate Universe, Opinions of the character are not opinions of the author, POV Original Character, Time Period: Reign of Gregor Vorbarra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Don't scare her off.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning To Run.

He has, Arthur reflects, looking around, been to extremely painfully awkward parties at the Residence. Kareen's official betrothal, for one example. The announcement of the impending Imperial birth, for another. And if certain people don't relax tonight and stay relaxed, this is going to rank up there. This could be exactly like the time Tim and Padma had nearly assaulted Serg.

Alexei Vortala, running security tonight, looks both harried and dreadful as he nods them in, taking only a moment to chide Charlotte gently for whatever trick she and Jolene Vortala had pulled last week that had turned the fountain at Vortala House into a whirlpool.

"Poor Laisa," Laura murmurs to Arthur, glancing around at milieu of relatives. "It's not nice of Gregor to ambush her like this."

"Gregor needs all the kids around to distract her from the Vorkosigans," Arthur suggests. Okay, maybe not Miles, because from what Arthur's heard, Laisa is already well-acquainted with that maniac. But then there's the other Vorkosigan maniac.

Petya, in a very deliberate civilian suit completely free of decoration, doesn't look as pained as Arthur's been expecting, though. He has his constant look that he's had since he heard about Laisa, that 'I have a headache and it's all the Emperor's fault' tightness around his eyes. But he's having a very serious-looking conversation with Patrick, which probably is Patrick indulging in his understandable desire to assuage his terror over what, exactly, Count's heirs do at Imperial weddings.

Which, as Arthur recalls and knows Petya does, too, mostly involves not punching the groom.

"Alys could have invited only adults and we would still outnumber the Vorkosigans," Laura says. "I do hope Alys didn't forget to remind Laisa of Barrayaran family sizes when she was planning this. Alys told me that Laisa doesn't have siblings, so I would think she probably has a completely different idea of what a small family party means than what it does on this planet."

"Gregor does have a small family," Arthur says. "If she wants big, she should go to the Vortala or Vorrutyer family reunions."

"We're trying to _not_ scare her off," Laura says. "Alys was very clear that we're to be the harmless relatives."

"Petya's not going to do anything," Arthur says.

"Intentionally," Laura retorts.

"That's true," Arthur allows. "And--"

Patrick, seeing them enter, breaks off the conversation. Petya turns as well and gives Arthur a jerk with his chin.

"And excuse me for a moment," Arthur finishes. "Petya's demanding a word."

"Tell him to stop looking like someone died," Laura says in an undertone. "He has maybe five minutes before Gregor and Laisa join the party. Remind him that she's the Emperor's choice and we are not allowed to scare her off."

"Yes, milady," Arthur says, and heads over to Petya at a stroll. Patrick takes the moment to flee.

"Cadets," Arthur grumbles.

"You look very foreboding in uniform," Petya says. "Like you're about to ask him if he's done his homework yet or if he's been wasting his time on Vorish frivolities."

"Ha." Arthur surveys the room. Patrick's taken refuge with his older sisters, all three of them sitting together on a couch, surveying their children playing. And Tim must've gotten the same briefing from Alys that Petya did, because he's in a civilian suit. Very non-threatening indeed. Ha. "What do you need?"

"A chaperone," Petya says. "If you agree, I'll send you a few dates and you can tell me what works well for you."

Chaperone duty. Arthur could groan. His own daughters would laugh at him if he suggested they have chaperones. He's very sure that even Margot, who sighs happily over the very idea of an Imperial wedding, would be mortally insulted if Arthur even joked about giving her a dowry. And Petya wants a chaperone. Again. "Who is it this time?"

"General Allegre," Petya says. "But don't say a word. He's going to be inviting Duv Galeni."

"Damn you and your smug Vorkosigan connections," Arthur tells him seriously. "Dangling the one who got away in front of me. Fine. Send along the potential dates and I'll let you know if I'm available."

"Thank you," Petya says with more emotion than Arthur's heard from him in months, not since he was still infatuated with the idea of Maxim Vortala. "Guy is-- General Allegre, that is--"

"Oh, this is your _Guy_ ," Arthur says, illuminated. "Your pet prole. He's finally agreed to come to the scary capital?"

"He's not my pet anything," Petya says irritably. "And I would thank you not to repeat that where there are a thousand ImpSec listeners--"

"Gregor's assured us _some_ privacy tonight, certainly, and they must already know."

"Alexei Vortala is going to be very smug about it, yes," Petya sighs. "But-- this isn't-- it's new, for all that we've been in contact for years. And he's the section head of Komarran Affairs, so it's become a lot more complicated than it used to be."

Ah, yes, like it wasn't back when it was just another Vor lord taking advantage of a prole. But at least Petya couldn't get this one pregnant. "Are you actually serious about him, then?"

"I've always been actually serious about him," Petya reminds him. "I-- you know how it is, the scary capital, my scary family. 'Come home and meet my father' isn't the sort of offer that's easy to accept when the one offering it is _me_. And when Guy's family is... he told me about the first time he met Gregor. It was on Komarr during Gregor's first state visit there. Guy was sure the armsmen were ready to shoot him at any moment. And he was very clear when he mentioned this to me that they probably weren't _that_ paranoid, it was probably him projecting, but could I imagine going through my entire life like that? And I said, well, yes, of course I could, because that's how I go through my entire life, and he looked at me like he wasn't sure if he should laugh at me or assure me of his pity. Damn him."

"And you're saying that he's mellowed with age?" Arthur asks. "Petya, I say this with love: don't go into something you know is going to break your heart. Not again."

"He's a section head in ImpSec," Petya says. "He's gotten much more paranoid. I think he understands the mentality now, actually understands it. Maybe I'm the one who's mellowed. I don't know. I don't honestly actually care. Can you believe I've spent today thinking about him and not about the major impending crisis of this Imperial marriage?"

"Someone distracted you from worrying? It must be love," Arthur grumbles. "All right, all right. I'll be your chaperone. And then I'll retire to the library with Galeni and a glass of wine and completely ignore you taking your Guy up to tour your suite. You're such a--," _hypocritical bastard_ , but the second part isn't something you ever say to Petya and the first part isn't conducive to Petya remaining civil tonight, and it's vitally important that he remain civil tonight, "you ask for chaperones and then you make a mockery of the very idea."

"I have to look like I'm following all the forms. You know the difference better than I do between actually following them and merely appearing to do so."

"You really don't have to follow the forms," Arthur says. "No one does anymore, or hardly anyone. And now you're doing it with a prole? Petya, you're being an idiot. Even worse, you're being an anachronistic one."

"Guy's not complaining," Petya says. "And I like following the forms--"

"Oh, so you won't be sleeping with him before you marry him? No, wait, I'm sorry, I forgot. You already have."

"Fine, I like publicly following the forms. And even if I didn't-- his family were Vorbarra armsmen for generations on both sides. You know how that goes. It's not just me who likes taking things a little proper, with a dose of protocol, and then leaving propriety and protocol outside the door when they've outlived their usefulness."

Arthur sighs. "Petya, have you ever paid attention to your own reputation?"

"I try not to," Petya says. "And speaking of reputation, let us not forget scandal. A small, private, historian dinner party. Consider the guest list. Who's going to look at that and think that I'm sleeping with Guy?"

"Well, they aren't going to think you're sleeping with me," Arthur says. "And let's hope they don't think you're sleeping with Galeni. _That_ would be a scandal."

Instead of horrified, Petya looks intrigued. Arthur closes his eyes and swears inventively.

"I wasn't going to spread that," Petya says, sounding amused. "But it is an interesting thought. A scandal can always be worse. Well. A scandal can _usually_ be worse."

"Spare us from Vorrutyer humor," Arthur mutters.

Petya shrugs. "You invited it. Now, my lord--"

"I'm never going to stop trying to drag you into this century," Arthur says. "But I'll go along with this. Have you spoken with Alys yet? _She'll_ have words for you about avoiding scandals."

"I'm going to try to take her to the side later and tell her," Petya says. "That's the arrangement we've settled into. I tell her, she tells Gregor and Illyan. This way, Gregor can ignore the implications of me needing to keep my Emperor informed of my potentially-scandalous activities, and Illyan can keep track of them. And Alys can be disapproving and tsk over me and ask when I'm planning on finding a suitable spouse and stop running away from things. It suits everyone. Except, very often, me."

"And you think this Guy is the one?" Arthur asks him dubiously. "A prole for the Vorkosigan heir."

"It's thirty years into the reign of Gregor Vorbarra," Petya says, and rattles off a few more pompous phrases in that vein, spontaneously grinning. "Yes, Arthur. I do know how to listen when people are telling me to stop acting like I'm actually my grandfather's son."

"You're going to give the conservatives a collective heart attack. I highly approve." Arthur nods to the corner, where it looks like Tim is giving Patrick some kind of lecture. Hmm. Maybe the boy _hasn't_ been doing his homework. "Tell Tim tonight. If you're planning on shaking things up in the theoretical future, he needs to know before he starts doing the rounds about Gregor's betrothal, the wedding, the prince, because this scandal of yours isn't going to play by your timetable, whatever it is."

Petya nods at him. "I don't need the reminder, but your concern is noted and appreciated. I-- I don't intend to be an idiot in this, Commodore, but I recognize that I am not even close to objective about this, so I can't judge and certainly can't judge well. And warnings are always appropriate. Not that I don't know how to manage scandal, but... you're right. I can't jump into this with both feet, no matter how much I want to. This needs to be done slowly and with great care."

"Oh, shut up before you make me feel sorry for you," Arthur sighs. "Cheer up. You've managed to find someone who is as in love with the idea of Vor ritual as you are, without also being in love with the realities of it. And we're getting a Crown Prince. You should be happy. I know I am."

"I am extremely happy," Petya says. "Once this is formally announced, I am going to invite some ambassadors for lunch at the Residence and inform them in person. This is going to do wonders for our standing in the galaxy. The biggest problem will be making it sound like the love match it actually is and not like a cold-blooded political marriage to unite the Vor with the Komarran oligarchy. I suspect the fit the conservatives will throw will help sell this as a potential scandal created by our Emperor out of an overwhelming, politically-inconvenient love for a woman entirely unlike the Vor ideal. I am going to get trade concessions out of Earth if I have to wring their necks to do it. They already love Gregor for having been a child Emperor whose Regent voluntarily stepped down. They are going to love this even more."

"That's the spirit," Arthur says. "Turn a Vor defeat into a galactic victory. I knew you were descended from strategists. It had to show up eventually." He pauses. Yes, he decides, best to get Petya away from this wedding as a political triumph. They really aren't supposed to be scaring Laisa away. Best to break it to her gently that certain of Gregor's relatives will treat any occasion as a time for intense political plotting. Tim's ready to start making the rounds on his conservative allies, Petya will probably go in force at them, too, and, well, it's not like Arthur's completely apolitical, no matter what his uniform says he's not supposed to be doing. And meanwhile Alys, Laura, and Julia will be attacking the Countesses. Gregor and Laisa might be having a wedding, but everyone else is fighting a ground war to ensure that Gregor and Laisa can have that wedding. "It's certainly not showing up in your insistence that your grandfather could have managed to pull off that trick with the Third Northern Pass if only the weather had cooperated."

"All it needed was rain," Petya says stubbornly, like he has since he was roughly thirteen and decided that if _he_ were ever going to fight a war in the Dendarii Mountains, he'd be the Vorkosigan to make that trick work. Arthur would have been willing to let it go as a childish fancy if Petya hasn't been insisting he could, too, do it ever since.

"I throw this scenario to my wannabe-strategists every year," Arthur says. "No one's managed it yet. Your grandfather was wrong. I'm sorry to have to be the one to inform you of this, Lord Vorkosigan, but your grandfather wasn't the greatest general who ever lived."

"Blasphemy," Tim says, approaching them. "Arthur, Gregor wants to speak to you for a moment before he comes in and gets attacked by the children."

"Right," Arthur says. "He in his usual hiding place?"

Tim nods and Arthur heads for the door near the back. From behind him, he hears Petya insist that, no, really, all it would have taken was cooperative weather, and maybe two fewer battalions of Cetagandans. Arthur could sigh in despair, honestly.

Gregor is standing a few feet behind the door, looking nervous. Arthur gives him an encouraging smile. "Relax," Arthur tells him. "We're your supportive family. We haven't met her yet and we're already her biggest and more vocal supporters."

"It's not your reactions I'm worried about, it's hers," Gregor says, then shakes his head. "No. I told her that I would stop dwelling on this."

"She's right, you shouldn't," Arthur says. "You can't control if she likes us or not. And she likes you. That's the important thing in this scenario."

Gregor smiles wistfully. "She does. You're right." Then his face settles back down into a frown as he looks around Arthur, out towards the party. "What, uh, were you arguing with Petya about?"

"History and protocol," Arthur says. "The usual. You know how he is, he's still half-convinced it's Ezar's reign. But you shouldn't be worried about him, either," Arthur continues. "Of all the people out there, he knows best what your marriage is going to do for him. It'll be a load off his shoulders."

"He once asked me to get married as an Imperial favor," Gregor says.

"Then he can't quibble about the details," Arthur says firmly. "And he seems truly in favor of it. He's planning diplomatic victories by the shipload over this. I hope you weren't planning on selling this as some cold-blooded political calculation to the conservatives to make them feel better about this, because Petya is going to shout your love story to the heavens in exchange for favorable opinions about Barrayar. I interrupted him before he could start talking about tourism. He might've started waxing poetic, I don't know."

Gregor nods, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "There has been that. Very vocally. And insistently. To anyone who will listen."

"So what's the problem?" Arthur asks.

"Petya's been treating me like I'm the Emperor," Gregor says. " _Constantly_."

"My condolences," Arthur tells him, successfully fighting a smile. "Don't worry about it. You'll do something eventually and his head will pop off. Or you'll hand him the Crown Prince and he'll melt into a puddle. If you need a distraction, start taking bets on what'll happen first."

"About that," Gregor says. "The Crown Prince."

Arthur nods at him encouragingly.

Gregor hesitates another moment. "I'm going to ask you, later, quietly, for... I'd call it a summary, I suppose. I want to have something to throw at people if they object to the name I've chosen."

"And by quietly, you mean?" Arthur prompts him.

"I mean that there are reasons I can't ask Petya," Gregor says, probably thinking he's being oblique, but completely failing. Then again, Arthur's known him since before he was born. Gregor is going to have to do a lot better at talking around things if he's trying to keep things a secret. "And not only because you're actually a historian and he just pretends he is."

"I'm actually a military historian," Arthur says. "Petya pays a lot more attention to political history, separate from war, than I do. Such as deciding who to name babies after."

"Nevertheless," Gregor says.

"I'd be happy to," Arthur says. "Ah, only on the Barrayaran end? You and your Empress are going to have to convince the Komarrans on your own that the choice is appropriate."

"I have to convince the Empress first," Gregor says, "but that's an ongoing discussion and we've already started it and... and if it turns out that she refuses, then we'll find a different name. But for now I want to know that if she does agree with me, that I can shove it down the progressive party's collective throats without them choking."

"Yes, it wouldn't be the conservatives having a problem," Arthur muses, and he can't stop the smile at the half-hearted glare that Gregor gives him. "Don't worry, I won't say a word to anyone about your intentions. My word on it. Although you can certainly sell it as a concession to the conservatives to help them deal with the reality of a half-Komarran royal line."

"It's not a concession to anyone," Gregor says firmly. "It's my choice and one I made years ago, and if Laisa refuses to allow it, then I accept that and will make another choice. But I will not let anyone believe that I would sell this high honor for political gain."

That might possibly be an Imperial first. Gregor's always been such a romantic. "And what of Petya?" Arthur asks. "Have you asked him yet? Or informed him, if you've decided you don't want or need his consent?"

"If I ask him, he'll try to refuse it," Gregor says. "He can't argue with an Imperial proclamation."

"Petya would argue with the sun if it would hold still long enough," Arthur says. "But you're right, he wouldn't be able to object publicly. Privately, however..."

"That," Gregor says reluctantly, "is tied in with another matter and also not settled. I'll let you know when I can, when we decide." Gregor smiles that 'thinking of Laisa' smile again. It suits him. "I like being a we. A couple-we, instead of an Imperial-we."

"And on that thought," Arthur says to his nephew, "you should stop keeping your guests waiting, Gregor. You called us here to introduce your bride. So introduce her."

Gregor takes a deep breath. "Yes, of course, Uncle. That's an excellent idea."

Arthur takes pity on him and pats him on the shoulder. "One foot in front of the other. It starts here. It ends on the wedding circle. One foot in front of the other."

"Still trying to teach me to walk," Gregor mutters.

"It worked well enough the first time," Arthur says. He squeezes Gregor's shoulder. "Your mother would be so proud of you. Tim'll tell you that, too."

"She wanted me to marry a Komarran?" Gregor asks.

"She wanted you to marry for love," Arthur replies. "You come by this romanticism honestly."

"Tell Petya that," Gregor says. "He thinks it's me being Betan. He said he blames Cordelia."

"Petya's either talking bullshit or lying to himself," Arthur says, and Gregor looks a little surprised. As he should. The whole point of refraining from coarse language around the Emperor is to be able to use it for shock value later. "Petya's entire life has been a pursuit of marrying for love," Arthur continues. "He's been kicking and fighting for it ever since Carl Vorhalas first smiled at him, if not earlier. If Petya were half as ruthlessly practical as he pretends to be, he would have married at twenty. That he's still not married should tell you everything you need to know about what Petya thinks about marrying the person you want to and not the person that society or your relatives tell you that you must. Relax, Gregor. Smile. We all support this, Petya included. This is the best possible choice you could have made."

Gregor swallows hard. "Thank you, Uncle," he says. "That-- _Miles_ barely supports this, you understand."

"Miles Vorkosigan is five-eighths Betan and has spent his career out in Galactic Affairs," Arthur says briskly. "He can complain about nothing. And neither can anyone else. Send all the complainers to Tim and he'll sort them out."

"You won't be sorting them out at the Academy as well?" Gregor asks.

"The complainers I get don't have votes in the Council," Arthur says. "At least, not yet. And the Academy is going to be very paranoid about this. There won't be a word of dissent from anyone there, not if past is prologue. We're too close to the capital for anything political to not be _extremely_ dangerous. I know Service Security briefs you on it."

"Yes, but it's bundled in with ImpSec and not in person, not since Petya was taking to invading the history department with maple mead and getting drunk on your carpets," Gregor says. "And, oh, by the way, yes, I know about that."

Arthur blinks. "I didn't assume you didn't."

"You never said a word to me about it." It's nearly an accusation and Arthur wonders at the hurt behind it. It was over a decade ago. Is Gregor still upset about it? _That_ upset about it? Something must have brought it all up to the surface recently, starting Gregor back on that cycle of guilt and anger, mixing in fear and betrayal with simmering, Imperial rage that wasn't fully gone even after Vordrozda had finally died in the Great Square.

"You weren't talking to me much then, Gregor," Arthur reminds him gently. "Or to Tim, or to anyone other than Vordrozda and his friends. I admit I occasionally thought of trying to get a message to you through Vorvolk, but I thought better of using that boy like that."

"I was talking to Petya. Sometimes. That was the last time, the only other time before I told him about Laisa, that he's gone on this long without dropping that pretense that he thinks of me as the Emperor, being so severely polite I could feel the daggers go in with every word." Gregor shakes his head. "I know," he continues quickly, "I know, later you said that you wanted to throw a history text at my head about power-hungry flatterers and the inevitable resultant coups, and then quiz me if I was paying any attention at all, but at the time... Vordrozda was talking to me about power grabs and Petya was being unshakably polite and distancing himself and then turning around and getting miserably drunk. What was I supposed to think, when I couldn't even trust Petya to be honest with me, because he was refusing to say a damn word out of turn, and you were in league with him?"

"If you look for plots, you'll find nothing else," Arthur tells him patiently. He's heard this before. Endlessly. "Stop second-guessing yourself, Gregor. It's in the past; Vordrozda's been dead for over a decade. Just because Petya is calling you by your titles in private doesn't mean that he's angry with you or trying to distance himself from you because he doesn't want to be your brother anymore."

"I know he doesn't do it intentionally to try to punish me," Gregor says, sounding like he thinks nothing of the sort and is, in fact, convinced of the complete opposite. "I know that. And I know that his reaction to Vordrozda was... when it was over and I could... I know that he thought it was the only way I wouldn't think that Vordrozda was right about the Vorkosigans trying to pull strings, but, damn him, does he think so little of me? Still?"

"Gregor," Arthur sighs, "if you want Petya to explain himself, demand that he explain himself. If I understood him at all, do you think I'd still be indulging him in his Vorish paranoia that if he puts one toe out of line, his grandfather will rise from the grave and kill him for illegitimacy?" And why not, since they're already talking about the brick wall that is Petya Vorkosigan. And Gregor could desperately use a distraction from this. Vordrozda isn't a welcome ghost here. "Oh, and speaking of Petya, you should know that he's planning on seducing your head of Komarran Affairs."

"What, again?" Gregor asks. "After that thing with Maxim Vortala, I'd thought he'd decided to stay within his own class. Whatever it was that was actually happening between them," he corrects after a moment. "I'm not sure I want to know, because Simon's reports were describing horrifying levels of political maneuvering and that's too much to know about my relatives." Gregor hesitates, looking suddenly very blank and calculating. "Not that General Allegre is a bad choice. He's loyal and he knows how to put up with Petya, which is a small miracle. The Vorkosigan armsmen will get twitchy, though. Twitchier." And then Gregor smiles, not his Laisa smile, but one Arthur's gotten more used to seeing over the years as Gregor's learned to play politics instead of having politics played on him. "Actually... thank you, my lord uncle. This is useful information. I wish Petya and Allegre all the best."

"I'm sure Petya will appreciate the support," Arthur says. "How is Simon?"

"Not well," Gregor says. "Ask Miles, he saw him just before he came here. He arrived early to give me a short briefing, but it's nothing encouraging. Aunt Alys is--"

"Distraught," Arthur offers.

Gregor nods. "In her very contained way. Did she ever talk to you about her plans? All she said to me was that she would be happy when I got married so my wife could take over as my hostess and leave her to pursue other pursuits. That's a quote."

"Alys hasn't said anything to me about her plans," Arthur says. "Or who. If you're curious about details, ask Julia. Tim mentioned that Julia and Alys have been discussing the widow's law recently, and Tim agreed to speak for the family if necessary."

"Too Old Vor without alcohol," Gregor decides. "I can hear Cordelia cursing Barrayarans, you realize."

"I think it all depends on Simon's health," Arthur says. "It would be difficult to have a wedding without the groom."

"Why not? You're talking about having a divorce without one," Gregor grumbles.

"It all depends on Simon's health," Arthur repeats.

"And on an Imperial favor?" Gregor asks. "I can promote Simon to Vor, but it would be a strange precedent, to give it as a wedding gift."

"Tim will speak for the family and allow Alys to remain Vorinnis, if she pleases, after the wedding, but of course, it wouldn't pass to any children." Arthur shrugs. "I am sure that Alys and Simon have considered this from all angles. And being Vor doesn't mean what it used to. It still means a great deal, but having prole children, if Alys wants them, isn't as terrible as it might have been twenty years ago."

Gregor doesn't look very convinced. "I suppose."

"I don't think they would turn down an Imperial favor," Arthur suggests. "But offer it to Alys, if you were planning on it."

"I really wasn't," Gregor says. "And dreading the possibility that it might be asked. But opening up the Vor again... I don't know. Aral Vorkosigan once said to my grandfather that Barrayar would be much better off if we abolished the Vor altogether by simply making everyone Vor."

"He's probably right," Arthur says. "If everyone is Vor, then no one is. But it would be easier to do it in theory than in practice. Try it, if you're interested in starting another civil war."

"I'm not. And the Vorkosigans have obscene ideas about being Vor," Gregor says glumly. "Petya once suggested I strip it from traitors. Well, not traitors in general. Just Vordrozda. I think he was angrier about it all than he let on at the time, because that's blasphemous even from him."

It hadn't been the most obscene thing Petya had been muttering in his cups during those days, but Gregor doesn't need to know about that. "Solid historical precedent," Arthur says instead.

"Yes, he did mention that," Gregor says. "Although I've always thought Vlad was being excessive there. He'd already killed all the Vorsallians, why did he have to insult them, too?"

"As a warning to everyone else," Arthur says. "And they'd also called his son a bastard and he couldn't let that stand, not after what he went through to be allowed to marry a widow. Speaking of Emperors marrying for love."

"And then using it to political advantage to try to unite the Empire," Gregor sighs. "Yes, I know. At least I already have the Vorkosigans on my side, and I think Count Vorlightly would rather prefer society leave him alone instead of requiring him to attend upon the Emperor's wedding. He and Pierre Vorrutyer should start a club, except that neither of them would ever attend."

"Mm," Arthur says. "Speaking of attending parties, Gregor. You do have guests, you realize."

Gregor nods reluctantly, and opens the door to the room. Arthur follows him in and out of the corner of his eye, sees Alys ushering Laisa in as well.

Alys keeps the room moving, making sure that Laisa has a chance to speak with everyone present. Gregor is obviously keeping a very worried eye on the proceedings, but he seems to be relaxing by increments every time Laisa meets someone and doesn't run screaming from the very idea of becoming Empress of Barrayar or of marrying into Gregor's family.

Arthur's turn ends up being on the couches in an alcove off the far wall, where Arthur has been surveying the wreckage the accumulated Vorinnis children have been inflicting on the Residence.

Alys manages the introduction, then vanishes to observe from a distance. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur sees Petya take her to the side.

Arthur turns back to Laisa. "Did Gregor at least show you [the family tree](http://pics.livejournal.com/lannamichaels/pic/001ytgt5) before tonight?"

"Briefly," Laisa says, and smiles shortly, mirthlessly.

"Ah," Arthur says. "You're going to encounter this constantly. The problem with us Vor is that we think everyone is like us, and we can tell each other apart and know who everyone is." He stands up and pulls a hidden comconsole out from the wall. He taps it a couple times. "And then conveniently forget that even the Low Vor have problems with it, let alone everyone else. When Countess Vorkosigan arrives, she can probably give you tips on sorting us all out."

Laisa smiles more genuinely. "I do look forward to meeting her. Gregor speaks very highly of her."

"And rightly so," Arthur says. "If you'd like, you could also ask Gregor to find you that historical retrospective the University did on Princess Jacqueline, Xav's wife. You're following in the pattern she set out and she changed Barrayar. She set the stage for Countess Vorkosigan to change Barrayar again. And I believe you'll change us further. And that's good. We need change or we'll never move forward."

"Did you ever meet Princess Jacqueline?" Laisa asks.

"It's likely, but if I did, I was too young to remember it," Arthur says. "Lord Vorkosigan, however, spent a great deal of time with her when he was young. I think he was twelve or so when she died, so he might have some stories he could tell you."

Arthur taps the comconsole again and starts a holographic display. "Here's Gregor," he says. He sketches out a couple lines and boxes. "There's his mother, Kareen, the younger of my two older sisters." He stops himself before continuing further on that topic, because birth order really isn't important right now. "That's me, that's Tim. Count Vorinnis."

Laisa nods. "Yes, that much was in my initial briefing materials before I came here."

Her tone invites the question, one that Arthur's heard a few times, mostly from proles, but also from Low Vor who lack a thorough grounding in Vorbarr Sultana politics. The High Vor who didn't understand, at least, were usually too embarrassed to be seen as ignorant that they never asked.

"Neither Tim nor my father were in real contention to be Gregor's Regent," Arthur explains. "Aral Vorkosigan was the only serious candidate, with both the strongest blood claim and the strongest military claim. It would have taken a lot more deaths before it would have come to Tim or to me." And it would have gone through Padma first and maybe if it had, he would have been better protected and still be alive. But that's not something to dwell on right now. "We would have been higher up in the choice for his legal guardian after Kareen died, but there was no reason why it shouldn't go to the Lord Regent and the Regent Consort. Splitting the duties would have made protection much more complicated. We prefer not to make things harder for ImpSec."

"And Vor families follow the male line for male children in determining where the children go, right?" Laisa asks.

"Well, mostly." Arthur says. He thinks custody of Padma, since he's dwelling on him and those regrets anyway, had much more to do with security concerns than with anything else. "Someone else would be better suited to brief you on the current situation, and I assure you that Gregor would never allow your children to be taken from you. And in Gregor's case, Aral Vorkosigan is related to him most closely through Gregor's Vorbarra grandmother. Not his Vorbarra grandfather. No matter how anyone traced his lineage to figure out who should be raising him, you would eventually have the problem of there being no more Vorbarras left. It was simpler to appoint the Vorkosigans to be Gregor's guardians."

Arthur draws some more on the display. "Move up one generation. My father's brother had three daughters, the oldest is Alys, right here, and so here's Ivan. Gregor's second cousin, but... well, I am certain you've seen Xav's family tree. Second cousin there, too, although it's a generation off, because Gregor was properly Padma's second cousin.

"And while we're at it," Arthur continues, and sketches a couple more lines and points. "My great-grandparents Vorinnis, their daughter who married a Vorrutyer, her daughter Therese, and here we are, Petya Vorkosigan. Mine and Kareen and Alys's second cousin. Which puts him as Gregor's second cousin once removed two different ways in two different directions. If you want to talk about Vor family pretzel trees, figure out all the many ways any Count or Count's heir is related to the Emperor. Petya's not nearly the most complicated."

Arthur takes another glance at the diagram and draws two more lines to Therese's eldest brother and then to his son. "And while I'm at it, here's Count Pierre Vorrutyer, who you probably won't meet until your betrothal. Don't ask Petya about him, he gets very defensive." Not without cause, true.

"That covers everyone here tonight, except for the kids," Arthur says. "And they're used to being confused for each other. The girls use it for their advantage all the time. They enjoy confusing everyone."

"There are a lot of girls," Laisa says. "It's... somewhat surprising."

"Oh, the Vorinnises have always had this philosophy about daughters," Arthur says. "Only one of the boys can become the Count, but all of the girls could marry one. It's how we've spun out our spider web of social influence. We and the Vortalas are probably the only Houses who have a higher female-to-male birth ratio on purpose. It was a strategic choice, especially when it became clear that no one else in our generation noticed what having that many more boys than girls would do to the Vor. That is, probably destroy us entirely."

Laisa looks scandalized. Too late, Arthur remembers that they're supposed to be going out of their way to not scare her off.

"Not to be too political about it," Arthur says quickly. "With few exceptions, we really don't do arranged marriages anymore. But there's a lot of competition going on right now in the marriage scene. Alys is the real expert on this because she runs the social scene, so she would be the best one to brief you on that. But anyone who cared to look should realize that our skewed birth ratio is going to be the death knell to the Vor caste as we used to know it. Girls now have much more power in the marriage scene; they've forced it now so that the babas won't even negotiate on behalf of a Vor lordling who doesn't want to use a uterine replicator. And the babas are how the most traditional marriages are arranged. That battle's been won. The Vor lords have to compete with proles who want to marry up, and are very often losing. And meanwhile, with fewer ladies of high rank than lords of high rank, even if all of the ladies chose to marry within their rank, there still aren't enough. This gives the girls and her family most of the power, and it's going to result in Count's sons marrying Low Vor, proles, and galactics. Within two generations, the Vor will be unrecognizable. We've held a very strict biological control over the Council of the Counts, making sure that all Count's heirs married appropriately. And that's already over. The title of Vor may be closed, but it's suddenly much more open than it was even when Vlad le Savante famously gave it out to everyone who picked up a shovel to bury the dead of Vorgorgerin's Siege."

"More sons than daughters," Laisa says. "And the daughters often choosing proles. Lady Alys had explained some of this, but mostly as being one reason why certain people wouldn't object to me marrying Gregor. It leaves another High Vor for the rest of them."

"And some Vor sons are refusing on principle to marry Vor daughters," Arthur says. "We are extremely inbred, which is another way galactic medicine is saving us. Gene cleaning is becoming the norm, and for many, that's the sole reason they agree to the uterine replicator. The Vor haven't quite broken the habit of spacing children out in a way that assumes body-birth requirements, but that might change soon, too. We _need_ galactics to help us move forward. Galactics figured out centuries ago what we're still stumbling around, discovering piece by piece."

"And you're a military historian," Laisa states flat out.

"There are military applications, of course," Arthur says. "To everything. Imagine recruitment... well, we've always had the problem of replacement numbers. Really, talk to Lord Vorkosigan about this, if you're interested. He actually managed to get a degree in some kind of history when he was on Earth for a few years, at some university in London, or around those parts. He doesn't advertise it, but he does know what he's talking about."

"Gregor talked to you, didn't he?" Laisa asks.

Arthur nods. "Yes, and I gave him my word not to discuss anything about it. Has Alys introduced you to Petya Vorkosigan yet?"

"Yes," Laisa says. "We discussed how wonderful it will be to have an Empress who can speak to the Nexus on their own terms, as one galactic to another, and who can follow in the steps of Princess Jacqueline when it comes to negotiating trade agreements and setting trade policy. He seems to like to talk."

"To anyone who will sit still long enough to listen," Arthur says. "There's a reason a favorite epithet is _Vor bore_." Something they're all guilty of, to some extent. At least Arthur has an excuse of being assigned to a post requiring him to bore people with lectures. Petya hasn't had that excuse in years. But Arthur probably should be talking up Petya, if the way Gregor had looked earlier was any indication. Still have to convince the Empress, indeed. "Petya's a bit monomaniacal, but he means well," Arthur continues. "And Gregor's been trying to impress him since he was five years old."

"I see," Laisa says. "And is he one of the Count's heirs who are forced to marry beneath them because there's no one available at their rank?"

"Um, no," Arthur says. "Alys really hasn't...? Petya prefers men."

"Oh! I'd thought that was just a slander going around the trade groups," Laisa says apologetically.

"No, it's true," Arthur says. "And Petya...," Arthur trails off, then curses under his breath. "Doctor Toscane, there are some unpleasantries of the Vor system that cannot be avoided in discussions about these things. If Petya needed an heir of his body, if something happened to Lord Miles, then Petya wouldn't have any difficulty marrying a lady of his own rank. Vordarian's Pretendership gave us a number of widows, and later military engagements, such as the War of the Hegen Hub, contributed to their ranks. You could always tell when Miles was in real danger by the fact that Petya was on the verge of announcing his betrothal." Hence the reason why Petya Vorkosigan will talk the ear off of anyone who could help with uterine replicator acceptance, but that's really not something to get into right now.

"If it's so easy for Lord Vorkosigan, then why...?"

"Oh, it's not difficult for anyone with an adequately Old Vorish mentality: you marry whoever you can of appropriate rank, with political advantages a plus but not absolutely necessary if you're in a rush, and then you have as many children as possible. Sentiment and emotion aren't important or even desired. They just get in the way. Arranged marriages are entirely for the sake of inheritance and political maneuverings. If the spouses like each other, that's an unexpected bonus. But that's Petya and how cold-blooded he's willing to be. The problem with the rest of society is that they aren't willing to play the Old Vor game. Gregor's been encouraging it without, I think, ever deliberately intending to, because he's been unmarried for so long. If he had done what was expected and entered into a political marriage a few years after his majority, I wonder if the situation would be different."

"Did you want him to?" Laisa asks.

"We've all been after Gregor to get married for years," Arthur says. "And we're very glad that he's found you."

"But did you want him to have a political marriage?" Laisa presses.

"Anything can be made to be political," Arthur says. "There is no marriage he could have imagined that we wouldn't have been able to use to our advantage. And we'll do it gladly," he adds. "It's a basic fact of our existence, not to mention Vorbarr Sultana politics, that it's extremely dangerous for Gregor to be unmarried and have no named heir. It's caused endless destabilization and been a major obstacle to so many things. And every time Gregor so much as coughs, you can nearly see the Counts readying for war. Gregor is the state, by definition. If he dies without an heir, we fracture utterly. Barrayar has tried chaos, Doctor Toscane. We find it horrifying and have no desire to return to it. _No one_ is going to dispute your marriage to the Emperor, because we've been desperate for him to get married for a decade and a half."

"No, I think a lot of people are going to dispute it," Laisa says.

Arthur shrugs. "People who could block it. Gregor, as the Emperor, doesn't have any liege lord he needs to ask permission before he can marry. But, in reality, any significantly powerful Count could block it. Either behind the scenes or outright because the Imperial heir doesn't need to be approved by the Counts, but Count Vorbarra's heir does. How far has Alys gotten in your briefings?"

"We're still on the social aspects, for the most part," Laisa says. "We've touched the political side of things when it comes to Komarr, but haven't had time yet to do more than barely scratch the surface about Barrayaran politics. Should I assume that Count Vorinnis is among those significantly powerful Counts? I know Count Vorkosigan must be."

"Yes," Arthur replies. "And neither of them will be any kind of problem. Aral and Tim are used to balancing each other out on either side of Gregor, in terms of public perceptions of the power balance. There's been a slander going around for years that if anyone could bring the military to oppose Aral, it would be Tim, and that was how we kept the peace during the more tumultuous years of the Regency, because Aral and Tim were in complete, public agreement. Aral held the power of the Regency and Tim held the power of being the Emperor's most senior male relative. It kept things from tipping too far over, that perception that Tim had both a hold on Aral and a direct path to Gregor that had nothing to do with the Vorkosigan claim."

"Most senior male relative," Laisa repeats thoughtfully. "I was told that Lady Alys is Gregor's closest senior female relative. Why isn't that Countess Vorinnis? She would be his senior aunt."

"Oh, protocol," Arthur sighs. "It depends what you mean by senior. They both are, depending on how you look at it. Alys is Gregor's hostess and the most senior lady of the court, the undisputed arbitrator of just about everything when it comes to protocol and propriety. And, furthermore, she married Padma Vorpatril, which closed a loop, and her son would be higher in the line of succession, if we, of course, had one, than Tim's sons would be. And meanwhile, Julia is a Countess and married to Kareen's elder brother."

Laisa frowns deeply, looking longingly back at the comconsole.

"But the Empress outranks everyone," Arthur finishes.

"What you've been describing," Laisa begins tentatively, "is vast social change. A revolution, of sorts." She gives Arthur's uniform an obvious second glance. "And you _approve_ of this?"

"Entirely," Arthur says. "Although I would hesitate to call it a revolution. And it's not any kind of secret, not really. I know Alys intends to brief you on it, but she's right, other things must come first. There's a lot of necessary background. But if you're interested, I can skip ahead...?"

Laisa nods. "Please. I would be very interested to hear how the military supports any of this."

Arthur grimaces. "What people have started to forget," he says, "in the aftermath of Komarr, in the shifts in strategy that required, is that the military has been the major driver of social change on Barrayar for the last century. And they've started to forget _who_ did it, too. General Vorkosigan was one of the first to give field commissions to proles; he was something like twenty-three, twenty-four when he started. Yuri gave Admiral Kanzian his Lieutenancy himself. Our monsters, our war criminals, _Piotr Vorkosigan_ of all people, understood the concept of completely destroying the way things had been done before the invasion. They saw that a meritocracy in the military was the only way to win the war, and so they created one. It wasn't instantaneous; the Academy was only opened to proles during the Regency, but that was the last bastion of the old ways. And even those old ways weren't so old. The Academy was Yuri's invention. Dorca had broken the armies of the Counts and Yuri realized that the old military apprenticeship system was going to recreate those armies. And so, following in the footsteps of his father creating centralized Imperial authority, Yuri created a centralized Imperial military.

"So that's where this began. All of it," Arthur continues. "Although, from a historian's perspective, you could make the argument that it started earlier, but, well... I'm not going to make that argument, not today. And the great strength of it, the only reason it worked, was that it didn't end when the Cetagandans left. Proles kept being allowed to become officers. They kept being promoted over Vor. Over _Count's heirs_ , even. Yuri saw the strength in it. Ezar saw the strength in it. Ezar even took it a step further and demanded the resignation of every Count who wasn't on the General Staff or assigned to a senior post in Headquarters, and even those had to petition him for permission to remain a serving officer. And every heir who inherited after that purge had to petition the Emperor and give him reasons to be allowed to serve. Ezar wanted the Counts as far away from military authority as possible; he wanted as much of a separation as possible between civil authority, in the hands of the Counts, and military authority, in the hands of the Emperor and his chosen representatives. He wanted to make it clear that the Countship could be inherited, but a Generalship could never be.

"And by the time of the Pretendership, half of the General Staff, and most of the Admirals of the Fleet, were proles. Already, _thirty years ago_. The Vor are already destroyed, if you consider the Vor in the old way, as a military officer caste, as the old story of the Vor lord on the horse. That's over. It's dead and buried along with Dorca.

"But that's only the military. Ezar centralized the government, finishing what Dorca and Yuri had started." And he did it without throwing anyone out of a window. Ezar's mass political assassinations had always been less public and less messy. It was only that first assassination that had been a gory, public show. If he'd had to make a public point, he'd coated it with legalities first; from his childhood, Arthur still remembers all the ways to get around the Great Square without ever having to look at the Great Pillars and the cages, without having to catch the eye of any of the guards. Timmy had dared to look, but, well, that was Timmy. Arthur'd lacked that iron stomach. "Ezar expanded the government and deliberately gave Ministries to proles. Xav had a hand in it, to be sure, but Ezar kept doing it after Xav died, so he saw the sense in it. Ezar gave ImpSec to Negri and later gave Political Education to Grishnov. He _deliberately_ spread out the power so the Counts wouldn't have it. And he didn't give it to younger sons or the Low Vor. He gave it directly to the proles.

"So the Betans say, and they've said for years, that we're overdue for a prole revolution. As far as I'm concerned, we've already had it and the proles won. It's just that some of the Vor haven't noticed yet. The proles run the military. The proles run most of the Ministries. Raul Racozy just became Prime Minister and no one even blinked. A Count could marry a prole and anticipate no problems getting their son confirmed as heir. The Vor, as we used to exist, are already dead, and the Vor, as we exist now, will be gone within a generation. That's the numbers game. That's the daughters game." _That's Kareen's revenge._

"If you want to know how far we are from what we were, consider that bastion of Vor ballads, that drunken fight that starts a glorious war. My grandfather used to talk fondly of the days before Dorca's reforms, when Counts had private armies, when the Vor waged war over insults. My grandfather thought fighting duels was the coward's way, because true Vor took an army to avenge an insult. And Aral Vorkosigan executed a Count's son for dueling. Carl Vorhalas was a damn idiot, to be sure, but his rank didn't save him." Even Petya couldn't save him, but that's unfair. Petya never did answer him when Arthur asked if Petya had even brought up the matter with his father, or even let the Lord Regent know that he was about to execute his son's old lover. Arthur suspects Petya never said a word to his father, either assuming that Aral already knew and it didn't change his decision, or that it wouldn't if Petya mentioned it, that Petya wouldn't be able to buy Carl's life as a fatherly mercy. Either one would explain Petya refusing to speak of it for shame, either as a betrayal of Carl, or as a betrayal of a son's trust in his father's protection. But Arthur remembers those first few months of Gregor's reign, that frenzy of politics and fear and the ghosts of Escobar yapping at their heels, screaming at them to keep running away from the past or they'd be consumed.

They didn't run fast enough. By Winterfair, Kareen was dead and Padma was dead, and by spring, Arthur's father was, too.

"What Gregor's done since his majority," Arthur says, refusing to consider history as the Wild Hunt; he knows better, "is consolidate his power, pull it towards him, explore it, find the edges and find the constraints, to see what he can do. He has a power base now large enough to do anything he pleases, within reason, and a great deal out of reason if he wants it enough. He has the power now, power he didn't have when he was twenty, power that Aral Vorkosigan couldn't have used in the Regency for fear of the Counts declaring him a traitor. Gregor's come into his own. Point him in the right direction, and Barrayar will never be the same.

"We're the last generation of the real Vor," Arthur continues. "After us, it's over. Within a generation or two, the proles will be running the Council of the Counts. The Vortalas already elect their Count and they've been doing it continuously since before the end of the Time of Isolation. My generation, _Serg's_ generation, we're that last gasp. Some of us refuse to see it and some of us are courting it desperately. And all of the ones here tonight," he adds, "are ones who are courting it desperately." Alys to marry a prole. Petya to never have to marry at all. Even Timmy, to never get that call, ever again, to put someone back together after Serg and his cronies tore them apart. "But this is what I've spent my life working towards, Doctor Toscane. The end of the Vor. And I know it. I've studied too much history to think we can turn around now, even if we wanted to. And only the isolationist fanatics want to.

"But this isn't to suggest that the way we've chosen to proceed is without flaws or mistakes. We're keeping the same names, but shoving in new definitions, and you don't even need to look at history to see how dangerous and short-sighted that is. It wasn't planned. We're Vor, after all," Arthur nearly smiles. "It's all done by improvisation, and we hold our government together with spit and blood and force of will. Countess Vorkosigan is right: we need a written constitution, at the very least. That probably should have been our first step; instead, it's nowhere near it and for good reason. And maybe we're close to being able to have one without needing a war first to clean out the old guard, the ones who would never accept it.

"Ezar was right. He said it would take fifty years, but the military is very close to being able to enforce one standard for Vor and prole. But that's the military. That's not the legal system. That's not society. Count's sons have to be tried in the Council of the Counts; Lord Vorbohn doesn't have any power there." And even that body doesn't have any power over Emperor's sons or the Emperor himself. There hadn't been any way they could have tried Serg for his crimes. If the worst had happened, if Serg had survived Ezar, it would have had to be death during war or an assassination. Serg could never have been publicly tried and publicly, rightly executed. Not a Crown Prince. Not a Vorbarra. It would have had to be Yuri's death for him, too. And Vorbarra blood on all their hands, again, with no Ezar Vorbarra to claim the assassination as being within his Imperial authority to personally execute a traitor.

"The only real check on Vor power shouldn't be the threat of war. It's what's kept us in line since Dorca's day, but even that... Dorca's peace would never have lasted without the Cetagandan invasion. It always shocks my students when I say that, although I don't know why it should. Clearly we're not doing a good enough job educating our Academy hopefuls, because they always start looking around for ImpSec after the second day of any history class. It's an ongoing problem; I blame Domestic Affairs and their propaganda. We needed an external threat to unite internally, and the only reason it lasted after the Cetagandans left, I'm sure of it, is because we gave power to proles that they never had before. We made them Vor without making them Vor, without opening up the title again. I don't think Dorca ever officially closed it, but, well. I can see why Gregor is unwilling to open it again. We don't need more Vor. We really don't. Maybe Aral's right, maybe we should just get rid of it altogether.

"Did you know, we didn't have a term for a non-Vor non-prole before Xav married one? He married a _galactic_ , because no one would have ever let him marry a _prole_. And so we've been conducting that strange word-dance ever since. And, excuse me, my lady, but you're a Komarran. You're not a prole, because proles now are Barrayarans who aren't Vor. And you're not a galactic, because you're part of the Imperium. We're fracturing our prole class, we're finding new words. But you're a prole, Doctor Toscane, and you're marrying the Emperor. That's our change. That's Gregor's change. That's what we've spent our lives doing, changing everything so that Gregor could do this, so we could do it, too, if we pleased.

"We need new social structures, we need to understand how the Komarrans have managed to have a stable society with the imbalance in planetary shares and shareholders. We need, desperately, a new understanding of inheritance law. Gregor's had committees studying galactic biolaws for years, and we need you there, too. One step at a time, we're walking all over our history and leaving it behind us."

"But nothing is keeping up with this," Laisa says. "Nothing. You're talking about vast social changes, supported by the military, but that isn't vast enough to encompass that. You said the revolution already happened, but from where I'm standing, there's been nothing near the requisite, corresponding changes in government, in society to keep up with it. You might change the definition of the Vor, but everyone knows the Vor system still exists and everyone knows it runs on Vor nepotism. That hasn't changed. If you're going one step at a time, you need to pick up the pace. You need to learn to run."

Arthur grins. "That's your job, my lady. To show us the way forward. Welcome to Barrayar," he says with a deep bow. "Alys gave me one instruction for tonight, to not scare you away. So, let's just pretend that I'm not saying this: we're going to take everything we can from you in service to the Imperium, to our children's generation, to everyone that is to come. That's the Vor way, that's the _Barrayaran_ way. We're going to eat you alive. We hope you don't mind."

There must have been some subtle signal sent, because Alys approaches to conduct Laisa back to Gregor. Alys gives Arthur a very annoyed look and Arthur knows he's going to get chewed up later.

Arthur takes his place next to Laura and they watch as Gregor takes Laisa's arm and together, one step at a time, they lead them into dinner.


End file.
